Worcester Polytechnic Institute - Peddler Yearbook (Worcester, MA)

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8 Perchance you’ll find within its leaves Some things you’ve seen before, Some moldy, patched-up, whiskered joke Which made old Adam roar, —Some antique saying of some Prof, Which wore out, vears ago, Some story which has circled ’round A thousand times, or so; But should you find some word or thought Which stirs your interest, Some sentiment which fits your case, Or new idea suggests, We’ll feel repaid for all the ink And paper we have lost, For all the cans of kerosene And feet of gas it’s cost, For all the cuts we’ve had to take And, all the head aches, too We’ve suffered in the search we’ve made For something fresh and new. Then in the years to come, we know, ’Mongst Classics we shall find, Most highly prized, this Aftermath Of Eighteen Ninety-nine. 1

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7 Ye Civils who, thro’ telescopes Lands and fair maids survey, Who fill the earth with little pegs And barber poles, each day. Ye suff’rers, sick of English Lit, Who’ve traced its gaseous growth. Ye Orators of Poly Sci Who left it, nothing loth. Ye mouth-tired murd’rers of Sci Dutch, Who’ve read between the lines ; Ye analysers’of flue-gas, Ye seers of ergs and dynes, And all ye hewers of the wood, Ye busters of machines, Ye greasy, dirty, unkempt gang, Who sport the bright blue jeans. In short, come all ye convicts, who Have served, or do, or will, Your four year’s sentence grinding At hard labor on the hill. Then gather round, ye motley crowd And view, with proper awe This product of the mightiest minds That ever Tech Hill saw; Remove your hats and bow your heads, All work and care resign While we present this Aftermath Of Eighteen Ninety-nine.

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©ur professors.